


Auld Lang Syne

by ForthwrittenScourge



Category: Deltarune (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, New Year's Angst, New Year's Eve, Other, Reader has no defined gender, Reader has no specific pronouns, Reader is only specified to be a Lightner, There's some fluff depending on how you see it, can be seen as platonic or romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:01:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22064434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForthwrittenScourge/pseuds/ForthwrittenScourge
Summary: In the dark, cold dungeon below the Card Castle, you were awaiting the New Year.You weren't sure what it would bring, but hey, at least Rouxls is right here with you.
Relationships: Rouxls Kaard/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	Auld Lang Syne

**Author's Note:**

> An idea I had after listening to "Auld Lang Syne". 
> 
> If you want to hear it for yourself, in the particular version that I typed it in, here you go: [Auld Lang Syne](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wPnhaGWBnys)

You held down the light button on your old Casio watch. Sure, the thing was cheap, but it served its purpose- it was a good beater watch. After all, it had lived through your fall into the Dark World and all your subsequent misadventures, so you supposed that it was well worth the paltry amount you had spent on it.

As the yellow light in the corner flickered on, your trusty little timekeeper affirmed your suspicions-

It was New Year’s Eve.

Almost midnight, even.

You sighed.

Who would’ve imagined that you’d ring in the new year in a prison cell?

Letting up on the button, the only source of light in your cell disappeared, leaving you dim in both environment and spirits. It had been a few weeks since the king’s guards had caught you, a Lightner, out and about in the Dark World, and since your moral compass pointed you in the direction of pacifism, you were quickly subdued. You wouldn’t so much as raise a hand against the people who were trying to capture you, and you were thus taken promptly to the castle basement to await a sentence.

The funny thing is, you had been in the Dark World for at least a full month before, not like the king needed to know that. Some of the very Darkners who had locked you away had been befriended by you, but you understood that they were just following orders- the pained eyes of a Rudinn, the grimace of a Hathy told you that this was all the king’s doing. He had found out about you somehow, heard about the Lightner living under his very roof, and demanded that you be detained at any cost.

It was honestly shocking how long you had been able to get away with that. Something in you knew that it was just a matter of time, but said time just seemed to fly by as long as you were with-

“I cameth as soon as I was able,” panted the very object of your thoughts, snapping you out of your reverie. Huh. You usually weren’t caught off guard by him, given that you could hear his blue boots clicking from across the entire dungeon.

“Hey, Rouxls.” You greeted casually. He was a common visitor of yours, popping in almost daily. And why shouldn’t he? You were sure that he was lonely without you around to keep him company in the shop. Even if sleeping among all his stock was a little uncomfortable, you were glad for his companionship and kindness. The feeling must have been mutual, given his tenacity in seeing you once you were finally caught.

“You know what today is?” You questioned rather glumly, seeing his hesitance in speaking. He must have something to tell you.

“... What?” He asked, pensive but attentive.

“New Year’s.” You responded. When he parroted the phrase back to you, now invested (if his raised eyebrow was anything to go off of), you knew that you’d have to explain.

“It’s this celebration- I’m not sure if it counts as a holiday- that most people have on the last night of the year. At midnight, when it’s technically the first day of the new year, everyone parties and throws confetti and blows horns, and in some cities, they have fireworks and big shiny balls dropping and light shows and, well, a ton of fanfare. They take the phrase ‘ringing in the new year’ rather literally, given all the noise.” You chuckled, not without a forlorn note in your laugh. Your eyes were glazed over with memories of years past, spent with family, friends, whoever mattered to you, shouting a welcome for the next chapter of your life.

Rouxls saw this and felt his heart drop to the cold, stone floor.

Gently, mournfully, he called your name, and decided to rip off the band-aid he had been worrying over for the last hour that he had been made aware of its existence.

“You’re… The king called for your execution. First thing in the morning.” He choked out, dropping the butchered Shakespearean dialect in lieu of his emotional turmoil.

“I tried to stop him, I tried to say something- _anything_ in your defense, but he wouldn’t hear it. He won’t stand for a living Lightner in his kingdom.” He recalled, looking at the floor to avoid seeing your reaction. He didn’t want to see the pain, the terror, the _betrayal_ that you would doubtlessly be wearing in your expression.

When he finally found enough of a spine to look up at you, he found none of that.

Your features, which at first had been frozen in shock, had melted into something completely unexpected: acceptance. Shaky acceptance, sure, but acceptance nonetheless.

You knew that nothing good could have come from your imprisonment. No one but Rouxls had spoken a word to you the entire time, giving you pitying glances from beyond the bars, and it was by their silence that you knew you wouldn’t be leaving the Dark World as you came in- if at all. It was just as inevitable as your capture.

You had had weeks to become acquainted with the thought. The thought of dying, or spending the rest of your life in this tiny, happiness-crushing space. The thought of never seeing any of your loved ones again. It had been a painful pill to swallow, and if you were being honest, the thought still pained you.

But you wanted to leave the world the same way they all had known you, the same way that all the Darkners that you had befriended now knew you- brave, kind, and full of hope. You wouldn’t let your doomed fate break you down. You’d keep your head high for the sake of everyone you loved, and everyone who loved you.

This was only reaffirmed, strengthened even, by Rouxls’ sorrowful proclamation and subsequent reaction. You had watched silently as he bowed his head, hiding tears and quivering lips that you had definitely caught sight of before he had finished speaking. His hands were dug into his jacket, shoulders tense with withheld emotion, and somehow, you found it within yourself to smile at how much he cared. Sure, you were terrified, but you still kept that smile up because you knew that everyone- Rouxls, the other Darkners, the family and friends that were still in the Light- cared. Every moment you had spent leading up to your death had been worth it in the end, because you had made such great friends along the way, friends who wouldn’t forget about you after you were gone.

That was the smile that Rouxls saw when he lifted his head, and it left him both baffled and awe-struck. You were just full of surprises, weren’t you?

“Every year, at New Year’s,” you started, shifting yourself closer to the bars, “everyone who celebrated with me would sing this old song. It’s a song about the people you care about, and how we’ll always remember them and the times we’ve spent with them.” To anyone else, this would sound like the mindless rambling of someone in shock at their impending demise, but you and Rouxls knew better. 

Once you had sidled up to the bars, side pressed against them, he knelt down and joined you, sitting in the same fashion, pressed as close to you as he could possibly be given the metal barriers between you.

“Would you like to sing it with me?” You offered, a single tear tracing your smile.

“I… I don’t think I would know it.” He admitted, not bothering to hide his own tears anymore.

“It’s okay,” you replied, and he knew that that phrase meant more than it appeared to. “I’ll sing it first, and you can join in, okay?”

If it was anyone else, he’d protest. If it was anywhere else, he’d claim that he couldn’t sing. If it was anytime else, he’d wait awkwardly until the song was over.

Not here, not now.

Not you.

“Okay.” He huffed out over a sob.

_”Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and days of auld lang syne?”_

At the slightly confused glance you got from Rouxls, you cleared your throat a little.

“It was written by someone from another country, so the language is a little different. It’s still, uh, still basically English though.” You gave a watery little laugh. “I’m gonna keep going, okay?”

He nodded as you started the next verse.

_”For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne, we'll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet, for days of auld lang syne.”_

Slowly, you inched a hand between the bars, holding it palm-up.

_”We twa hae run about the braes, and pou'd the gowans fine; but we've wander'd mony a weary fit, since days of auld lang syne.”_

Rouxls settled his hand onto yours, holding it tightly.

_”We twa hae paidl'd in the burn, frae morning sun till dine; but seas between us braid hae roar'd, since days of auld lang syne._

Though he was understanding less and less of the song, he found more tears filling his eyes. A glance to you told him that you were feeling the same way- your own tears were falling double-quick.

_”For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne, we'll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet, for days of auld lang syne._

You leaned your head against the bars, and he was quick to follow suit. Your hair fell against his, the color tangling with his own long, white locks.

_”And surely ye'll be your pint-stoup! And surely I'll be mine! And we'll tak' a cup o’ kindness yet, for auld lang syne.”_

Your breath was hitching, and your singing was punctuated with sobs. You were sure that you sounded less than great, but you didn’t care. Neither did Rouxls.

_”And there's a hand, my trusty fiere! And gie's a hand o' thine! And we'll tak' a right gude-willie waught, for auld lang syne.”_

You jostled your conjoined hands with a small, playful smile for emphasis. He found his own lips quirking up despite himself.

_”For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne, we'll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet, for days of auld lang syne.”_

You looked at him while you sang “my dear.” You loved him.

_”For auld lang syne, my Rouxls, for auld lang syne, we'll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet, for auld lang syne.”_

His eyes found yours when you substituted his name for what you would definitely consider its synonym. He loved you.

“Think you got some of that?” You asked in the silence that chased the end of the song.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

You started again, and he joined in where he could, while you just kept going. Once, twice, thrice more you sang, until eventually Rouxls had it all committed to memory. He even tried harmonizing with you instead of singing the same notes, with a questionable amount of success.

No matter how you sounded, no matter how many times one of you broke off into sobs, no matter how hard you clutched each other’s hands, not once did either of you stop singing.

Even as you were torn from his side and marched in front of the king, you sang. Even as you were forced to kneel while the king raised his razor-sharp spade whip, you sang.

And when you could sing no longer, vocal cords severed with the rest of your head, Rouxls sang for you.

_”For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne, we'll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet, for auld lang syne.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Some say that, even long after you were taken from him, he would still go down to your empty cell and sing. 
> 
> Darkners weren't prone to take note of the date, seeing as they were always in the dark and had no discernible day and night cycles, but Rouxls was the exception- he kept a calendar studiously, and could've told anyone the date and day of the week. He became so good at keeping time that he could state it at any moment, almost to the exact minute. Some wonder how he could do this, and some would swear that they saw a suspicious yellow light on his wrist at times when he was asked to give such information, but most pass it off as another one of his eccentricities.
> 
> To anyone else, Rouxls' excursions to the dungeon were merely an odd ritual, carried out at obscure moments. When asked what the occasion was, he would merely list the date, day, and time, as if that meant anything. Perhaps to him, it did, since he always said December 31st, and it was usually some time of night.
> 
> Whatever the case may have been, he would walk to the same place in the dungeon, sit in the same manner, lean against the bars just so, and sing the same song repeatedly until some specific time unknown to the rest of the world.
> 
> No one ever truly asked him why he did this. If they had, though? Well, there was only one answer he could have given.
> 
> For auld lang syne.


End file.
